


I Am Here For You

by darcyogdenreid (orphan_account)



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/darcyogdenreid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Les starts out the selling day with a runny nose, and ends it with a high fever. How do Jack and Davey deal with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Here For You

“Daveeeeey,” Les protested, ducking under the arm that was reaching out to nab him. “‘m fine! It’s just a runny nose!”

"A runny nose can indicate the onset of a flu!" David Jacobs pointed out firmly, finally managing to take the younger boy by the shoulder. 

"I should get you home so you don’t get any worse!"

“‘Mornin’, boys!” Jack Kelly drawled, sidling over to the brothers. “What’s happening?”

“Dave doesn’t want me out sellin’ today!” Les crowed in protest, “Says I’m too sick!”

Giving the (nearly) ten year old a quick once-over, Jack made a clucking noise with his tongue.

“Come now, David,” wheedled Jack, “The kid looks ok to me.”

“Besides, with a runny nose Les can really sell the whole “sick an’ sufferin’” orphan act.”

Davey sighed heavily in Jack’s direction, but wasn’t about to attempt an argument with the two stubborn others.

“Oh, alright then,” the older Jacobs conceded, “But if you start feeling bad Les, tell me and I’ll take you straight home!”

“Stop worryin’ so much, Davey!” Les tried to adopt the no-nonsense tone that his brother often took on. “A runny nose ain’t goin’ to kill me.”

“Atta boy!” praised Jack, clapping Les on the back.

“Let’s go now! We got papes to sell!”

~

The selling day had yet to reach an end, but with three hours to go, Les Jacobs was already visibly fatigued. His cheeks were blotched with strawberry-colored patches and his usually springy step had turned cumbersome. Either he was an incredibly talented actor playing the part of ill orphan to garner sympathy sells. Or he really was about to pass out.

“You okay, Les?”

Concerned, Davey pressed the back of his hand to Les’s forehead to check the temperature.

“You’re burning up! We should get you home to rest!”

Davey put an arm around his brother to support him, but Les wasn’t ready to bail out quite yet.

“No, no. Just a couple more papes…”

He struggled against Davey’s grasp and, with a final surge of energy, managed to get free. However, the momentum sent Les hurtling toward a nearby wall, which he collided with before collapsing against it feebly.

“How’s it goin’?”

Jack Kelly materialized from around the corner, once again involving himself in the predicaments of the Jacobs brothers.

“Not well,” Davey reported as he kneeled beside Les.

“Les, what’s the matter?”

The smaller boy only made a pained groan.

“He has an awful fever. It must be a hundred at least.”

With some effort, Davey scooped Les up in his arms.

"Dave? Davey?" Les stirred, lifting his head.

"What is it, pal?"

"I - I think I wanna go home," mumbled the boy.

“You should get him home and rested,” Jack nodded, watching the brothers with concern.

“Like I was trying to this morning!” Davey reminded him, “But no, the famous Jack Kelly had to convince him otherwise.”

“I apologize for that.”

Davey shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have listened. He’s my brother! My responsibility out here. I have to take care of him…”

Jack removed his cap and ruffled the hair at the nape of his neck.

“‘Ey, don’t forget the kid’s hat,” he knelt down to pick up Les’s hat, which had fallen earlier, and balanced it on Davey’s head, atop his newsboy cap.

“Thanks.”

Jack shrugged.

“It’s nothin’. Just make sure Les’s feelin’ better soon, alright?”

“I will, i will. And our folks know some great home remedies.”

“Well okay then. G’night, Mr. Jacobs.”

Jack waltzed past, ruffling Les’s hair and swatting Davey’s shoulder as he went.

“Mr. Jacobs is my father,” grumbled David, watching Jack stride farther down street.

“See ya tomorrow!” Davey called after him.

With another drawn out sigh as Jack disappeared, Davey looked down at Les, who’d promptly fallen asleep in his brother’s arms, cheek resting in the crook of his neck.

“Alright, bubba. Let’s get you home,” Davey whispered soothingly, using the term of endearment that Les now only allowed him to use on the rare occasion that he was sick or being read a bedtime story (which hardly happened anymore, now that Les considered himself “nearly grown”).

He pressed a delicate kiss to Les’ temple before beginning the trek toward home.


End file.
